


Routine

by Talullah



Series: 25 Fluffy Fics with Lindir [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning, an ordinary morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Однообразие [Translation]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053852) by [Angulema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angulema/pseuds/Angulema)



> Many thanks to jaiden_s for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> 15minuteficlets word #138: routine
> 
> fanfic100 prompt 029: birth.
> 
> 25fluffyfics prompt 024: writer's choice.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

We do this: we wake, we stretch and yawn and pretend to be asleep. We move to lie closer, rub our bodies as blind kittens searching for warmth. Then we collapse onto one another. I never wake up feeling energetic so I leave it all up to him. He speaks softly and his raspy voice colours the darkness behind my lids. I snuggle closer and growl. His hands start moving. I'm forever in awe of how he can do the things he does so early, but I enjoy him; I enjoy his every touch, his every breath upon my skin, the way he pulls me into his mood until I force myself to open one eye and face the cruel morning light. This is love. This is everything that I dreamt of, this cosy, familiar, and yet ever so fresh and deep feeling of belonging.

I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest or his hair. I can't get enough of his scent. It pains me that it is the very first thing of his that I begin to forget when he goes Orc hunting. I deny the maids entrance to our room - laundry is the sacred vault of his presence. After sometime I eventually have to let go. I cannot sleep in semen-stained sheets for three months at a time. Sweaty shirts need washing before they're ruined. Fresh air must be allowed in before the staleness of the room taints the memory of mornings like this, when he holds me, teases me awake, and never lets go until I'm the one begging for love.

I move on top of him, ride him in effortless abandon. His body melds into mine as two pieces of a broken vase. It's perfect. It's also part of the routine. I know the exact moment when he will put his hands on my hips in askance. I know the exact way his lips will curl when I speed up my ride. And when he starts thrusting up, it's no surprise that a word escapes his lips. It always does, that sighed, trembling 'Lindir', that overused word that becomes all polished and shiny in his lips and precedes the birth of stars.

My friends say most couples stop this constant love play after a few years together. I don't know. Maybe it's because of the long absences, but Elrohir never stopped expressing diligent interest in me, in my body, in my touch, my heart, my mind. And I never stopped feeling aflame at every touch, at the very thought of him, awed by this desire so intense, so encompassing. Whoever said that routine was a bad thing was lying.

 

 _Finis_  
February 2006


End file.
